


Motion and Emotion

by frk_werewolf (wolfelements)



Series: Fisi'Verse [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, Not in time-line order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:29:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfelements/pseuds/frk_werewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles for the Fisi Verse, takes place around Mbwa Mwitu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motion and Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> slashthedrabble's prompt "Forward"

#1: Bullet Memory  
Pairing: Spike/Xander  
Words: 100  
Spike pressed the side of his head against Xander’s chest, smiling as the gravel-like purr vibrated into his ear. Xander’s hand trailed along Spike’s back, passing along the healed spot that bullets once resided. Spike shivered, tightening his hold around Xander’s waist.

Memories, consistently unpleasant, invaded Spike’s brain: Metal piercing his flesh, Tara’s echoing scream, and Xander curled up, naked, in the corner of an overly bright cell.

“Shh.” Xander whispered. “It’s over.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” Spike admitted, breathing in Xander’s scent.

“It’s time to move forward, Spike.” Xander kissed his forehead gently. “It’s over, I promise.”

 

#2: Apartment Decoration  
Pairing: Spike/Xander  
Words: 100  
“Move it forward.” Willow ordered, from where she sat on the floor. Spike grumbled, but proceeded to help Xander adjust the sofa. Willow tilted her head. “A bit more.”

“Bloody hell, Red.” Spike snapped. “We’ve been moving this damn thing all afternoon.”

“You guys wanted my help to decorate your new apartment.” Willow pointed out.

“She has a point.” Xander said, sliding an arm around Spike’s waist. Spike scowled, before grabbing a box and taking it into the bedroom. Xander watched him go, before sending Willow a look. The witch sighed.

“Fine. Go ravage your lover in your new bedroom.” 

 

#3: Scent  
Pairings: Spike/Xander, minor Tara/Oz  
Words: 200  
Xander could not get over it, not really. Having his sense of smell back was like having a limb restored. After the attack on Walsh, Xander proceeded to enjoy the smells of everything near him. Oz smelled like Tara, lavender dominating him and wrapping around the scent of the moon. Xander was happy for them, glad that they could find comfort in each other.

Spike smelled like arousal, leather, and carnage. Xander wanted to strip him bare and lick him from head to toe. Alone in their bedroom, he proceeded to do just that.

The back of Spike’s knee tasted like a hint of salt and smelt of thick denim. The junction between hip and thigh was sex, a scent that spiked Xander’s desire. His back smelt like a dash of pain, despite the bullets wounds having long ago healed. His neck was that of property, where Xander could place his mark. His mouth tasted like liquid sin and dark chocolate, but with a hint of nicotine. Together, their skin set off the erotic and desperate scent of love.

Mostly, he smelt like Xander’s, a scent that told Xander that they would continue through anything. Moving forward in life, together. 

 

#4: Backseat Watcher  
Pairing: Angel/Doyle, Wesley  
Words: 200  
Wesley was in hell, plain and simple. He sat in the back of the car, watching as Angel and Doyle made enough cute and adorable gestures to make a person sick.

Wesley was not bitter.

Doyle placed his head against Angel’s shoulder, causing Wesley to grit his teeth in annoyance. Angel turned lightly and spoke in a low voice. Doyle laughed.

Wesley wished they could get to Sunnydale faster, save Spike and the others, and then get home. He missed Gunn, a thought he refused to dive deeply into.

Doyle kissed Angel on the neck, before grinning wickedly. Wesley closed his eyes and fought down a scowl. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Angel should be granted this happiness, nor Doyle. No, Wesley was just tired of being stuck in one spot, while everyone else moved forward with their love lives.

Wesley sighed, moving his eyes to the window so he wouldn’t see Doyle scoot closer to Angel in the front seat. But he wasn’t bitter, and he refused to watch the lovey-dovey actions before him.

“Love you, man.” Doyle whispered. 

Wesley sighed and tried to remember that his heart was located in his chest, not buried six feet under.


End file.
